i hate being alone
by A Bittersweet Liar
Summary: wally doesn't know who wally is anymore. wally only knows flash. it's scary, because wally's alone. and everyone else is gone, gone...just gone. and wally doesn't like being alone. it makes him feel even more useless than he usually does. Pairings inside. Warning: Depression & Slash.
1. Loneliness Is Sometimes Scary

**Genre:** Angst, Hurt.

**Length:** 450 words.

**Pairing:** _One-Sided!_BatFlash(for _now_ I guess), + Team Bonding, & John/Shayera.

**Rating:** Teen/PG-13.

**Summary:** wally doesn't know who wally is anymore. wally only knows flash. it's scary, because wally's _alone_. and everyone else is gone, gone...just _gone_. and wally _doesn't _like being alone. it makes him feel useless.

**Author's Note:**

This was something that came up, when I was trying out a much darker style, a style that I don't use much, but I like _a lot_. And I'm sorry that I keep writing Wally with so much angst, I can't help it. JLU made me feel that way about Wally, and so did Wally's actual back-story. So I hope you all enjoy!

And Kyer, this story is for _you_. Since you wanted a story where Wally's dad wasn't abusive, and I liked the idea. I hope you don't mind BatFlash much~

Read & Review.

Pretty _Please_? I'll give out imaginary virtual cookies x]

* * *

**_Chapter 1:_ loneliness is sometimes scary...**

* * *

someone's holding a knife. someone _**stabs**_ him. again. and **again**. it _hurts_.

the blood **doesn't** stop flowing. it _keeps _coming.

he _chokes_ on silence and blood.

he doesn't know which hurts _more_...

the pain, or the **silence**.

* * *

He wakes up feeling like shit, before rushing to the bathroom to throw up. There's blood in the toilet bowl. He grits his teeth, looks away, and flushes the toilet. He sees his reflection in the mirror, pale skin, red eyes, and pale-dry lips. He doesn't know **who** he is anymore.

He _wants_ to remember who is Wally West. He can't. It _**terrifies**_ him, until he remembers he can smile and pretend to be Flash. He **knows** who the Flash is, _everyone_ probably does. He's a hero clad in a red spandex suit that has a lightning symbol on it, with bright grins, and corny jokes. He's a metahuman with the ability to outrun _both_ a cheetah and a jet. He's a member of the Justice League.

Yet it sometimes seems like he's _not _needed. Like he's an _unnecessary _addition. Like he's a kid trying to play dress-up to fit in with the grown-ups. He remembers Barry. He remembers his father's big arms wrapping around him. He remembers the booming laughter of Rudolph. He remembers Mary's sweet words. He remembers Iris's big smiles, and Barry's teasing.

He remembers they're _gone_.

He opens the tap water, washes his mouth, and doesn't look at the mirror again. 'I'm not worth looking at anyway' he thinks sadly.

He traces the outlines of a photograph. His fingers caressing the picture gently, as if touching any harder would make it break. It doesn't. But Wally still touches it gently. He **misses **Christmas Eve. But now, there's _no one_ there...

His heartstrings are pulled at, _hard_, when he remembers pale blue eyes, ebony hairs, a strong jaw, and a weary face. He shakes his head. But still his mind thinks of the lips belonging to the face, of the large hands, touching him, cupping his cheeks, and he flushes against the blood-red and black sheets.

He's turned _on_ by the fantasy of a man. A man who _doesn't_ even take him seriously at times. He _wants _to cry, but he does the opposite instead. Instead; he silently laughs at himself. And ignores the cold tears that caress his cheeks almost instantly.

He's in pain. But pain doesn't bother him anymore, not _now_, not ever.

He tries to smile, but it hurts his jaws to even **move** his lips. He closes his eyes, and dreams of laughter, hugs, and happy endings. He doesn't realize it. But in reality, tears are still streaming down his cheeks.

He's _still_ alone, even then.

* * *

**End of 1st chapter.**


	2. I'm Losing Myself

**Genre:** Angst, Hurt.

**Length:** 3,040 words.

**Pairing:** _One-Sided!_BatFlash(for _now_ I guess), + Team Bonding, & John/Shayera.

**Rating:** Teen/PG-13.

**Summary:** wally doesn't know who wally is anymore. wally only knows flash. it's scary, because wally's _alone_. and everyone else is gone, gone...just _gone_. and wally _doesn't _like being alone. it makes him feel useless.

**Author's Note:**

This chapter was hard, because it focuses more on Wally West's work life. And I suck at science. So writing up the day of a forensic scientist _wasn't_ easy at all. I looked up most of the things mentioned, and they're all true except for a few things, but in general, I didn't make up anything except for the original characters, parent's features, memories, and settings. I changed Flash's actual workmates, because I wanted to go along with a more realistic, and fictional approach. Something unrelated to the Animated JLU show, and something still similar to it.

Read & Review.

Pretty _Please_?

I'll give out even _more_ imaginary virtual cookies =D

* * *

**Chapter 2: _i'm losing myself..._**

* * *

blood flows. blood kills. it's _sick_, **i'm** sick. i hate myself.

but you don't understand. **no**. you _never _will.

that's why. i dream, dream, and _**hope**_ for happy endings.

not cause i'm scared of being alone...

(but because i **know** i'm _not_ getting a happy ending.)

* * *

It's Friday morning when Wally wakes up.

It's the 12th of August when Wally heads off to work.

Wally doesn't care. Because he _doesn't_ know. Who is Wally? Who was Wally **really**?

He was _no one_.

No one didn't have to care at all. Because nobody _knew_ no one. He might as well flicker away, like a candlelight against the strong winter winds, and _nobody _would notice. Maybe Dick would have; if Dick wasn't busy with Bludhaven, maybe he really would have. He ignores the part inside of him that whispers "_And why _should_ he? You're __**not**__ worth it._" And the rest of the League, well, they had their lives. They **knew** who _they_ were. Not like him. He was _useless_.

It takes him 7 minutes to eat breakfast, get dressed, and leave his apartment. He's in no rush. But time, as always, moves **too** slowly for him. He doesn't like it, but he deals with it. Just like Barry did.

He dislikes the insistent chattering of people. If it were a few, he would not have minded much. But when hundreds are talking at the same time, it's like a buzzing noise in his ear. Never stopping, never ending, and always_ just_ buzzing. It was annoying. And it bothers him immensely. He keeps waiting though.

When the train stops by, Wally breathes a sigh of relief, and for _once_ he's glad no one he works with, live beside his neighborhood. He doesn't want to talk to anyone at all.

He steps into the train.

The crowd of people pushing in, and out, upset his sense of focus. Wally doesn't like closed spaces much. They remind him a little of the time in a mission as Kid Flash, -_not Flash_- where he got hurt, and was caved in for 21 hours in a dark, and dreary cave. He had troubles breathing for days after that. And the panic attacks had begun to appear then. His father and mother were always helping him with them. And now they were _gone_.

And **no one** else knew about his fear of closed spaces. Though he suspected that maybe Dick was speculating the theory, but other than that. He made sure to _never_ reveal it to the League. And the only time he accidentally did, was when Shayera and him had been accidentally trapped in a cave for 4 hours. He didn't tell her he was claustrophobic, just that he _wasn't _comfortable with tight spaces, because of breathing problems that occur when one stays in such a place. Her eyes had narrowed, but she said nothing, and for that Wally was grateful. He _loved _the warm comfort of her strong arms more. Because for those long hours, he could forget he was suffocating, he could let go of the dark, and simply be held. He wouldn't be alone then.

But they were still the _scariest_ hours he'd ever spent as a member of the Justice League, and that was **including** the time he faced the Joker with Superman. Joker was a man. Men could be stopped. Spaces only got _tighter_ with time. Until it was too _dark_, too _hard_ to breathe, _too _silent, too much of a reminder of _everything he'd ever lost_. He hated reminders of his past.

He hated them a bit **too **much. But he can't help the dislike that grew from within him. How _could_ he? They only reminded him of everything he'd never get back.

Because death was _undefeatable_. Death was cruel. Death was **beautiful**. And Wally craved death, like an addict craved Heroin. It was like his lifeline, the only thing he strived for, without actually hurting himself. He couldn't hurt himself, but he could be a hero.

Because if he died _**now**_. Who would carry out Barry's legacy? Who would protect Keystone and Central City? He ignored the part of his mind that whispered "The League _could._" Because if they could, then Wally would be _**useless**_. And that. That was a fact Wally _couldn't_ admit yet. Not now. Maybe later though. When he'd find another Speedster. Maybe then.

He smiles sadly, ignores the loud chattering of people, as the train comes to a stop. He lets out a deep breath. And puts on a fake smile.

_Who was Wally West?_

Steps out of the train, and out of the station. He makes a few turns before stopping at a large police station. And he enters.

He removes his jacket, and places on his lab coat. He greets his co-workers with forced cheerful greetings, and bright _fake_ smiles. He cracks a few jokes. Forces a smile when they laugh. He then heads off to his desk, and asks them "Hey guys. What's today's assignment?"

Jordan smiles at him. "_Fake"_ his mind screams at him, because Jordan was smiling at Wally West.

Wally West _didn't _exist.

He doesn't remember a time when Wally did.

Jordan –an American in his early 40s, tan skin, hazel eyes, thin light-brown wavy hair, pink lips, and a Brooklyn accent- explains to him about a few cases, and how Wally had to autopsy on one body: a young Mexican female, who was 21-years-old, shot twice, cause of death wasn't the bullets, and Wally had to find out what was. The other two cases focused more on investigating a new type of drug, and its symptoms; while the last one was identifying certain compounds found at a crime scene last night.

Wally nods when Jordan asks him "You got it?" and murmurs "Thanks Jordan". Jordan hands him a few files before leaving, with another small smile as he uttered "You're _welcome_ Wally~" He ignores the ache his heart feels at the friendly tone.

Wally bit his tongue to stop himself from screaming "But I'm NOT Wally!" because whoever he is right now, wouldn't do that. So he stays silent, reviews the files, reading them twice, before heading off to the laboratory to perform the autopsy.

* * *

**10 Hours Later...**

It was 6 o'clock. Dusk. Wally was done working for today.

The girl, he had to perform an autopsy on was named Miranda Summers. A college student whose major was Civil Engineering. She had been beautiful, even with her skin looking blue, her lips pale, and fingers filled with blood. She had wavy dark brown hairs that had framed her face, and when he checked her eyes, they were a pretty light shade of gray. Her picture revealed a beauty. Too bad her beauty was what led her to her demise. He pitied her. And felt anger towards the man who had done this to her.

The bullet near her chest had missed her heart by _more _than just a few inches. The other one had been lodged near her right thigh, and hadn't hit any major artery or veins. But there had been traces of **a lot** of Sulfur in her blood, along with some alcohol as well. The sulfur explained why her blood had been slightly _more_ greenish-black than red.

She had been clubbing with a few friends downtown. Started drinking early, before heading off to dance ten minutes later. She had danced for an hour alone, before a guy joined her. 2 hours later, she was _gone_, along with the guy, and none of her friends knew where they had gone. 7 hours later, her mother finds her body while on her morning jog, beside a garbage bin.

The sulfur, acid he presumed, had caused her body to react with the blood, burn up most of the proteins in her system, decrease and destroy her enzyme function, until her heart entered a cardiac arrest, and she died instantly.

He grimaced. Feeling very sorry for both the girl, and her mother. Because he knows, he'd have never wanted to be the one to stumble on his son's/daughter's body if he ever had children. And Miranda. She just. She had _so_ much going for her. And now Miranda was gone. Never gonna get married. Never gonna get kids. And she'd **never** be able to get her degree.

His heart hurts for her. Because **no one** deserved such a death. Not even the villains he fought on a daily basis, well, except for some of Batman's criminals, they _**freaked**_ him out, and were _mostly_ borderline insane, they also killed too much. And tries not to think of little Mary who died by the Joker's hand 2 months back. Tries to block away the images of brown hair, freckles, a toothy grin, and braces. Mary was dead. He knew from experience that there was _no_ use in mourning the dead. Because they were no longer living.

He just hoped that _wherever _Mary & Miranda were now, that they'd be happy. Or at peace.

The new type of drug was similar to ecstasy, it would leave the cells dehydrated, but the difference was that _while_ ecstasy kept the victim blissful, before leaving them in pain, this drug made them **more** bi-polar, along with the heightened senses and strength, and was a slow-moving poison. It would kill the victims, in an estimate of 2-4 hours after taking the drug. It was dangerous. Wally just hoped the police would be able to catch the dealers before more people would die.

The last substance he had to identify was magnesium sulfate, a.k.a. Sulfamag. He had found traces of it in the empty syringe. And though the item was harmless, it was lethal if it wasn't administrated by a doctor, and if it was introduced to a body in large amounts. There'd be _**serious**_ side-affects. Allergic reactions, trouble breathing, poor reflexes, fainting, and so on. **Too **many side-affects, which could kill a person with a weak body, or a weak immune system. It would react even worse to people who may have ailments, cancer, smoking or drinking problems. Drug addicts shouldn't go anywhere near the stuff, until most of the toxins in their blood were gone, in case of accidentally increasing their chances of getting more side-affects.

He sighed. Glad he wasn't working in Gotham, or they'd have been more cases to work on, ones with even harder answer to come up with, unless he was Batman. Which he _wasn't_. He wasn't even Wally West.

That boy had died along with _every _person that had meant **so** much to him. Closes his eyes tightly, as he hears the faint-yet-hoarse laughter and kinds words "_The problem, my __**dear**__ Wally, with 'An eye for an eye', is that everyone would end up blind. And nothing would be solved then..."_

He snaps out of his thoughts, when Amy –a middle aged half-Chinese, half-English female, with small brown eyes, and black hair-, and Steve –with dirty blonde curls, thick black-framed glasses, and a charming Australian accent- came up to him. Amy began, "Hey Wally. What are you _still _doing here? It's Friday evening. You should be leaving early, as always~" tone playful, along with a bright smile on wide red lips.

Steve chuckled as he commented "You're usually the first one out of here. Since you're _always_ _**very**_ busy?" a tease in his words that _almost_ brings out a genuine smile on Wally's face, until he remembers that he doesn't even know **who** he is. The smell of magnesium, blood, and antiseptics _fill_ his nose, making him feel slightly nauseated. As he _didn't_ eat much for Lunch break, after he had finished the autopsy.

He fakes a laugh, making it loud enough, and cheerful enough to sound amused rather than fake. Before uttering "Sorry guys. I was just distracted about something I saw on TV yesterday."

Amy raises an eyebrow, an amused smile still on her face. But says nothing, as she shakes her head, smile still there on her lips. Steve grins and tells Wally "Well, don't get **too **distracted West. We need you at your best, ya hear me?" tone warm, and friendly.

He forced out another _fake_ bright smile and replies. "Will do Steve. Amy. Have a good day!" as he takes off his lab coat, and waves at his smiling colleagues. No. Not **his**. _Never_ his.

Because Wally West wasn't real. Not anymore...

He brushes past the police officers, and heads straight for the entrance doors. He needs to leave.

And leave he does.

It rains 2.15 minutes later. But instead of getting bothered like Flash would. He smiles. A beautiful bright smile. It _fills_ his face. His eyes sparkle with joy, as he holds up his arm to cover his head. But he's still smiling.

The rain is cold, as it hits him gently, he's reminded of a piano melody he had heard. Long ago, when he was just a toddler. He had heard the melody. It was a _beautiful _one. Reminded him of Beethoven. But it wasn't Beethoven. It was Chopin. He knew the difference, because his mother loved to play.

She _used to_ play every Friday afternoon.

She stopped when he turned 13. He had gotten his powers then, and the household grocery bill had increased. She **never **complained about it though. Just gave him a bright smile, cupped his cheek with one hand, while her other hand stroked his red hairs, and told him "_My sweet boy. I love you __**very **__much"_. He began taking piano lessons from Dick, who was an expert in playing the piano.

And whenever he'd be free from his duties as Kid Flash. He'd play for her Chopin's 'Raindrops'. It was her favorite composition of Chopin. The smiles that would appear on her face despite how tired her job made her, made him feel relieved. He was glad that he could _still_ make her smile.

He** loved** his mother's smile. When her rose lips would curve into a sweet, and small smile. Her light green eyes would fall shut, and she'd become the epitome of serenity. That's why he always tried to make her smile.

He couldn't imagine living without her back then. And now. He _doesn't_ know how he is.

He misses her soft, yet short giggles. Her messy brown hair falling over her eyes, while she tried to cook dinner or read the newspaper.

He even misses the loving smiles she's show his father.

_His_ father Rudolph. Who had dark red hair, warm brown eyes, and large comforting arms. He misses the bone-crushing hugs his father would give him, whenever he was feeling sentimental.

"_Hey sport. You do good out there. And make sure you come back for dinner. Okay?"_ that's what his father would always tell him whenever he was dressed up as Kid Flash and about to leave the house. Before ruffling Wally's hair, and heading for the old red sofa, to watch his some action movies on TV, until he came back home.

He snaps out of the memories when he hears a loud **"BEEEEEP"** along with an angry "ARE YOU CRAZY?! GET OFF THE DAMN ROAD!"

As the green car swerves away. He wishes it had hit him. He steps back into the sidewalk, and away from the main roads.

He smiles a nonchalant smile to the passersby's, and women who ask if he's alright. He tells them "I'm fine."

He knows he isn't.

And silently wonders, 'Will I _ever_ be fine?' Ignores the painful silence that reminds him of a _dead_ family. A dead Wally.

He keeps on walking. Arms hanging by his side, while the rain clung to every part of his clothes, and hair.

A sigh escapes his lips. The rain hits harder. The sky was darker. And almost instantly, he is reminded of Gotham's rainy afternoons. He feels a pang in his heart.

Because when he remembers Gotham. He remembers Batman, and when he remembers Batman. He remembers _Bruce Wayne_. The man he was **completely** and irrevocably in love with.

He doesn't think it's fair. To love a man that _cannot_ love him back. A man who was totally straight. A man who was known as a playboy with women. And a man, who behind that façade of shallowness, is a man of the darkness. A hero who has** no** time for love. And if he did. Wally wouldn't be a choice. He was _never_ a choice.

Hates the stinging of tears in his eyes. Hates how his heart feels empty, and how it _longs_ for an unavailable bachelor. Bites his bright lips hard enough to draw blood. And hurries towards the station.

His watch reads 6:18 p.m.

He has 12 minutes until his monitory duty at the Watchtower begins. Ignores how queasy his stomach feels when he remembers that he's paired with Batman. His heart skips a beat.

And tears blur with faint raindrops.

Noise begins again. And Wally closes his eyes, as the doors of the train close, and takes a seat.

He's glad he didn't bring his wallet with him today.

He's not sure he likes the idea of _Flash_ getting robbed on a train. But his lips quirk a bit, when he imagines hoe John would react to such a story.

He thinks of rain. Hears the flutter of wings, and is filled with thoughts of Shayera. The raindrops hit harder against the train's window.

He thinks of Bats. Their wings beating heavily. He breathes out.

And he remembers Batman.

Breathes in.

It _always_ came back to Batman. He **wishes** he could have loved someone else instead. But he can't.

And lets his mind fill him with thoughts of large hands trapping him, kissing him, claiming him, and licking him._ He imagines Bruce uttering "I love you Wally"._

He laughs at himself.

An unbelievable dream, for a man who _no longer_ existed.

A part of him cries on the inside, and on the outside. He doesn't care.

Because right now. The Flash would be _**needed**_. Not Wally. Whoever Wally was. He _wasn't_ needed. And so Wally opens his eyes.

And doesn't try to dream of Bruce again...

* * *

(_but i love you~)_

is echoed into the cold silence.

_breathe in. breathe out._

**stop.**

wake up...

* * *

**End 2nd Chapter.**


End file.
